


Ghost Dogs in Metuchen

by caswell



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dogs, DogJeremy AU, M/M, Ouija, so i guess it's not TECHNICALLY boyfs but this au Is Boyfs, uhhhhh check notes for context i promise it's not a furry thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 10:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14353941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caswell/pseuds/caswell
Summary: Jeremy isn't dead, and he certainly isn't a ghost. This will probably be hard to prove, however, because he is a dog....It's a long story.





	Ghost Dogs in Metuchen

**Author's Note:**

> HOOOKAY this won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read up on Bird's dogjeremy au: http://actualbird.tumblr.com/tagged/dogjeremy%20au/chrono
> 
> IT'S SUPER CUTE and sad, please appreciate Bird's stuff, they're cool and talented.

Jeremy's been having  a  _ really  _ fucking weird few weeks. Weird enough that  _ Oh, God, it's hard to move Scrabble pieces using just my nose and paws  _ is a perfectly rational and apt thought to be having at the moment. Because he is a fucking dog. 

But let's take it back a little bit.

Jeremy's in the middle of taking a nap on Michael's bed, having nothing else to do (again… he's a dog) when he's awakened by the sound of the door opening and Michael shuffling inside. Jeremy cracks one eye open and looks up at him, swishing his tail slowly back and forth across the sheets. If nothing else, at least he's got Michael.

What's that he's holding, though? It looks sorta like a board game. Jeremy yawns, licks his lips, lays his head back down, but keeps his eyes peeled. In the irregular, muted yellow-blue of his vision, it's a little hard to see, but it's got letters all over- 

Is that a fucking Ouija board? It can't be. Jeremy's not  _ dead.  _ ....But Michael doesn't know that.

As Jeremy watches, Michael grabs a candle off his dresser- with a pang of morose nostalgia, Jeremy remembers going to the Candle Shoppe at Menlo Park Mall and picking some out, Cranberry Chutney for Michael and Island Waterfall for himself- and flips off the light switch. The darkness is cut through a moment later when Michael lights the candle, his Pisces-themed lighter making a quiet snapping noise.  _ Oh, my God,  _ Jeremy thinks,  _ he's actually for real going to try to contact my spirit. _

He tries not to think about Michael thinking that he's dead. No time for that, because- as Jeremy realizes with a start- this is his opportunity. With a quiet bark, he jumps off of the bed, not bothering to shake the sleepiness off, and sits down on the opposite side of the board.

_ He's risking everything for me. He believes in spirits, there could be demons- he's risking  _ everything.

Jeremy tries not to think about that, either.

“Is there- is there anyone with us?” Michael asks, voice wobbling, and all Jeremy wants to do is hug him, but he can't, because this is his moment. This is his chance.

He puts his paw on the planchette.

He looks Michael in the eyes.

And he moves it to  _ Yes. _

Michael makes a noise like the wind’s been punched out of him, sort of a whimper of desperation that cuts Jeremy to the core. As Jeremy watches, his eyes start to shimmer, the flickering candlelight reflecting in the tears that brim there. “Holy shit,” he says shakily. “My- my best friend is dead and his ghost is possessing my dog.”

_ Dumbass. _

Since he can't facepalm, Jeremy instead puts one paw over his snout and frowns down at the dirty old carpet, sighing deeply. He places his paw on the planchette again and moves it over to  _ No.  _ Slowly, deliberately, trying to make eye contact the entire time.

Michael doesn't respond, though; he’s pushing up his glasses and rubbing away the tears with one trembling hand, understandably distressed at the thought that his best friend is dead and inhabiting a border collie. Jeremy barks and taps his paw on the board, and Michael looks up, sniffling. “W-What is it?” he asks.

Jeremy taps his paw again, this time on the planchette again, and shakes his head.

“No? No to what?” Michael frowns in confusion. 

Jeremy grumbles- more like a growl, really, though at himself more than Michael- and wags his tail in frustration, slapping it against the ground. There's got to be a better way to do this. And then he remembers the shitty movies. All the shitty movies they've watched over the years- Christian Mingle, Rubber, Zoombies… but those ones aren't important. Shaggy Dog. Shaggy  _ fucking  _ Dog.

_ Scrabble! It's gotta be Scrabble! _

Jeremy steps over the board and grabs Michael's sleeve carefully with his teeth, tugging on it once he's sure he hasn't accidentally bitten him. He backs up, still pulling, until Michael shrugs him off and stands up. “Shi- uh- Jeremy, what's wrong?” he asks. “Besides you being d-dead.”

Jeremy just heads for the door, scratching at it until Michael opens it, then bolts out and down the stairs to where he knows the board games are stashed. Blessedly, Michael's parents aren't around; they'd scold him for going ham on their shelves and flipping his shit, but he has quite the excuse for his shit to be flipped. When Michael catches up with him, Jeremy barks vigorously, looking up at him with desperate eyes as he stands on his hind legs.  _ Come on, I know you're smart,  _ Jeremy thinks pointedly.  _ Get me Scrabble! Get me Scrabble! _

Michael, clever as he is, catches sight of where Jeremy is focusing his attention and grabs the Scrabble box from the shelf. Before he can put it down, Jeremy knocks it from his hands and onto the floor where it lands with a graceless  _ thunk,  _ letters and board all spilling out onto the carpet. Michael makes a move to pick up the pieces, but Jeremy swats at him with one paw until he backs off, looking a little freaked out. 

And that's where the thought comes in. It  _ is  _ hard to move Scrabble pieces using just his nose and paws, but he can't very well speak- he's tried before, and it clearly didn't work. Pawing through the letters, he finally manages to dig out a J, two Es, an R, an M, and a Y. It takes him an aggravatingly long time,  but he manages to line them up in a wobbly row. 

“Jeremy.” Michael nods as he reads the name spelled out on the ground. “Ghost Jeremy,” he says, an echo of his earlier freakout. “...In my dog.”

Jeremy shakes his head and whines in frustration for a moment.  _ Think.  _ After a couple seconds, he drags out three more letters: I, A, M.

_ I AM JEREMY  _

He slams his paw desperately, frantically,  repeatedly on the I until a look of understanding crosses Michael's face.

“...You…” Michael looks like he doesn't have words, which is something Jeremy can definitely relate to. “You. Dog. Not ghost. You are Jeremy.”

_ I sure as shit am,  _ Jeremy thinks, nodding hurriedly. 

“...What the fuck.”

_ Yeah, man.  _ Jeremy thumps his tail on the ground and barks in agreement. 

Michael runs both hands through his hair and sighs out deep, clearly trying hard to understand what the shit is going on. “Okay, okay, okay,” he says after a few minutes. “If you're really Jeremy and not a freaky smart dog, you're gonna have to prove it.”

Jeremy sighs as well. He should've seen this coming, but still, it's a pain in the ass.

So that's how they end up sitting in Michael's room again- the candle, of course, hadn't fallen over and spread fire, though Jeremy certainly is nagged by retroactive anxiety- huddled on either side of the Ouija board, which, as Michael has informed him, had been borrowed from good ol’ Jenna. 

“Alright, so I'm gonna ask you things about myself that only Jeremy would know, and you've gotta answer them, alright?” Michael instructs. “Look, I know I sorta buy into the whole spirits thing, but you're trying to tell me you turned into a dog.” Jeremy nods. “That's bogus, dude.” Another nod.

Jeremy obediently moves the planchette around with his nose and paws as Michael asks him questions if varying complexity.

“Do I know how to tie my shoes?”

NO

“Uh… would I take a tango class if the possibility presented itself?”

YES

“What's my favorite color?”

R-E-D-D-U-M-B-A-S-S

“Hey, don't be a jerk. Um… what's my favorite episode of Animal Planet's The Most Extreme?”

H-O-W-A-M-I-S-U-P-P-O-S-E-D-T-O-K-N-O-W-T-H-A-T

“What color is my underwear?”

I-M-N-O-T-A-P-S-Y-C-H-I-C-F-U-C-K-O-F-F

Michael seems like he's becoming more and more convinced, but there's something holding him back. After what seems like a billion questions, he says, “If you're Jeremy… let's do our secret handshake.”

Jeremy looks at him with a flat gaze. I-A-M-D-O-G-H-O-W-W-I-L-L-I-D-O-T-H-A-T

“The real Jeremy would find a way,” Michael answers, and Jeremy again does his best to facepalm. 

After thinking for a few moments, Jeremy sticks out one paw and waits for Michael to hi-five (hi-four?) it, which he does.  _ Down low.  _ He sets his paw on the board, and Michael taps it. The hardest part, though, is the foot slap. Jeremy frowns down at his paws, then stretches out one hind leg for Michael to kick- and falls over. He's not a cat, he can't contort his body into whatever shape he feels like. Michael laughs for a few seconds before Jeremy starts to growl at him.  _ Cut it out, man,  _ he thinks,  _ this is fuckin’ serious.  _

“Sorry, sorry,” Michael says. “It's just- your  _ face,  _ though.”

They try a few more times, each ending with Jeremy lashing his tail from side to side in frustration, before Michael sighs and says, “Alright, I've got an idea, but you'd better pray to your doggy god that my parents don't come home and pay us a visit.”

Michael gets on all fours- if it wasn't such a sobering situation, and also if he wasn't a dog, Jeremy would laugh his ass off- and sticks his hand out. Solemnly, Jeremy bats it with his paw, then lowers it, holding it for Michael to slap,  which he does. Michael scoots himself around so his back is facing Jeremy, and, wobbling a little, sticks one foot out. Jeremy turns the other way as well and taps his paw against Michael's shoe, and the room feels like it's rejuvenated, like something is happening, like-

Nearly knocking over the candle, Michael launches himself at Jeremy and hugs him tight, laughing hysterically and burying his nose into the soft fur around his neck. “Oh, my God,” he whispers, “it's really you. Jeremy, oh my fucking  _ God,  _ it's really you.”

_ Yeah, it sure is,  _ Jeremy thinks, and lays his snout on the crook of Michael's neck. They stay like that for a long time, Michael squeezing him and laughing and telling him how much he missed him and how glad he is that he's alive, oh God, he's  _ alive  _ and he's  _ here  _ and…

And then he's crying. 

He's pressing his forehead against Jeremy's shoulder and shaking, voice tattered as he says, “I thought you were dead. I thought you got kidnapped- Jeremy, I-”

_ I know,  _ Jeremy thinks.  _ I know.  _

And his heart hurts, but it's a good hurt, like the ache in your muscles after a workout. It's a hurt of progress.

They're going to get through this, and they're going to get through it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I love you!


End file.
